Who I could only assume was Warwick–he glared like he hated me on sight, so with Clover’s explanation it seemed likely–towered over me. His upper half was humanoid, long blond hair cascading down his shoulders like a golden waterfall. Atop his head sat a full rack of antlers, their intricate branches twisting like living vines.

  His lower half though? Decidedly not human.

  The powerful body of a golden elk supported his frame, complete with a short, fluffy tail that matched his shimmering coat.

  The air around him crackled faintly, the sensation making the hair on my arms stand on end. His glare didn’t waver as I smiled and waved awkwardly.

  “Ah, you’d be Warwick, then?”

  He raised a sharp eyebrow, his scowl unmoving. “What is it to you, human?” he spat, his tone laced with suspicion.

  The venom in human grated on my nerves, and my forced smile faltered. I’d endured more than my share of hostility back in Dawncrest as a child—usually for merely existing—and I wasn’t about to put up with it now.

  Straightening my back, I kept my tone neutral but firm. “Clover mentioned you’d hate me on sight, and would you look at that—she was right. I haven’t been glared at like this since I was five winters old in Dawncrest.”

  Clover raised an eyebrow. “It went back that far?”

  I shrugged. “I was a boy, too young to contribute much to the town. They saw me as a burden until I was old enough to pitch in. Of course, once I started adopting people, some of their hospitality turned strained.”

  Clover’s eyes darkened briefly, a fire flashing behind them before she nodded. “Good to know I can add that to the list of reasons I despise that town. But back to the present—Warwick isn’t like them.”

  She turned and fixed Warwick with a pointed glare, daring him to argue. “Frederick here promised to help me without expecting anything in return. He’s nearly died more than once as my front-line support while we searched for the Veridanis herb. Surely you’re not like those fools in Dawncrest, Warwick, taking out your prejudices on an innocent man.”

  Warwick’s gaze flicked to the hole in my armor, and some of the tension in his frame eased. His crossed arms relaxed, and with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “My apologies. Things have been... strained lately. The last handful of humans to pass through were less than stellar examples of your race. It’s put me in a sour and distrustful mood.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I exhaled, letting go of my irritation. “That’s fair, and I accept your apology. I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I am here to help.”

  He eyed the crumpled job papers still clutched in my hand and hummed. “Evidently.”

  The human, Nikoli most likely, pressed forward, a painful hope in his eyes. “Were you successful? Some of the refugees are fading fast.”

  Clover sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Long story short? We had the Veridanis. But bandits were waiting outside the dungeon, and one of them destroyed it in their carelessness. We’ll be heading to the next dungeon as soon as I check on the refugees.”

  Warwick grimaced, his shoulders slumping. “I’d offer my aid, but the monsters have been more frantic than ever lately. If it weren’t for Timbur patrolling as well, I would never know rest.”

  Clover’s lips curled with faint amusement. “And here I was hoping to steal the berserker away for help in the next dungeon. Oh well, I’ll ask Haltir instead.” Her smile dimmed into a grimace. “Though I doubt he’ll help without some kind of incentive.”

  Warwick hummed, shaking his head. “I would have assumed the same, if he hadn’t left the day after you did to raid the dungeon to the north.”

  Clover froze, her eyes widening. “He went alone? I asked him to help the refugees, not throw himself at a dungeon on a suicide mission!”

  Warwick shrugged. “He believed his skills were better suited for clearing the dungeon and finding the herb. He wasn’t necessarily wrong.”

  She scoffed, running a hand down her face. “Sure, but he’s no help to anyone if he gets himself killed. Ugh. I’m going to start smacking the stupid out of people.”

  I snorted, remembering how she handled the bandits. “You’re already doing that.”

  She raised a playful eyebrow, some of the tension lifting. “And my methods work, don’t they?”

  I shook my head, a grin tugging at my lips. “Yup. Bonus points for looking gorgeous while doing it.”

  Her expression softened into a full smile as she preened slightly under the compliment. “Glad you think so, because when we catch up to Haltir, I’ll look downright stunning in my fury.”

  “You already are.” The words slipped out, and heat crawled up my neck as the room went silent.

  Nikoli’s gaze was heavy with amusement, while Warwick watched with something like envy before his neutral expression fell over him again like a mask.

  Most importantly, Clover’s eyes softened further. “A woman can never hear too many compliments. But let’s stay on task.” She faced the others and spoke. “I need to see to the refugees, Frederick here will be helping with a few jobs while I do and–”

  The soft thud of hooves on wood flooring echoed down the hall just before a blur of red burst open the doors.

  A young beastfolk—a fawn with curly red hair, nubby antlers, and a gleeful grin—bolted into the room. When she spotted Warwick, her face split into a grin and she launched at him with a cry.

  “Warwick! Aman and I are here to visit you!”

  The sheer volume stunned me and Clover shook her head, amused. Apparently this was normal of them…